


I Love You

by bossy (orphan_account)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, they're underage but there's no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you,” he said, 11 years old, golden hair patched with weakening sunlight from the open door, and grinned a sad grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Written 12/30/06. Originally posted on LiveJournal.
> 
> I'm a survivor and I have the right to write about incest.

“I love you,” he said, 11 years old, golden hair patched with weakening sunlight from the open door, and grinned a sad grin. He ruffled soft brown hair belonging to a weaker, sadder face, flecked with tears. Reaching over to wipe them off, smearing mud by the boy’s nose, and the one he loved sniffled like a rabbit, like a young child, like a broken machine.

“I love you and I always, always will,” and the clouds became the sky unless he squinted. He closed the creaky door and took the younger one’s hand without turning the lights on so that the room wasn’t real, didn’t exist.

A clumsy kiss that nobody saw wasn’t really a kiss.

Then he turned the lights on, and there was bread on the counter, and he stuffed it into his mouth before disappearing upstairs into ink and yellowed paper, crumbling covers, formulas, postage stamps.

He slept on a hard wooden floor, window open so they both could see the stars and feel the traveling winds, because beds and lamps belonged to their mother, their elusive past, something long gone that had only recently disappeared. Waking up cold and grumpy and sore was something only for adults, a badge of honor.

“I still love you,” when they stood next to a woman, tall and strong with glaring, determined eyes, who walked quickly to see if they could or couldn’t keep up.

“I was such an idiot,” later, when he is slightly taller and his hair longer, in a braid, “to think I was an adult. We were young, we didn’t know what love was.”

An empty suit of armor shook but never cried. A broken pencil, grey-tinted clouds, scattered papers. 

They hardly ever stayed mad at each other for long.

This time they slept in beds on opposite sides of the room. A different room, but when they opened the window he felt the breeze, and they both saw the stars, oddly familiar but only a little comforting. He knew that now he was really an adult, to take a test this important, to give up love and make room for something bigger, better. To maybe stop loving but never caring, never.

“I still love you, okay? Just so you don’t think I don’t or something.” A watch in his pocket, silver, and he grinned sadly again with bread on the counter that he stuffed into his mouth, sitting at a table waiting for an old woman to return. The armor’s emotionless face couldn’t smile but tried, nervously pausing, “like a brother?” Words filled with hope and fear. The old woman came back into the room and the older one chewed his food loudly, drowning out the words. A seal made from his own blood.

“No, Alphonse. I love you more than a brother.” Standing half-naked, all of his limbs there, covered in careful ink patterns, twirling and spinning without moving in a sea of hopeful alchemy, painfully alone. The room was huge and empty except for the lurking presence of the alchemy, and he knew he wasn’t an adult, never had been.

And it lighted up with a flash like lightning, “I love you, Al, I love you,” and somewhere the younger one smiled, and there were tears on his cheeks again.

And the older one knew that now he was the closest he had ever come to being an adult.


End file.
